


Wedding Bell(e)s Part 2

by thewritingkoala, Tina0609



Series: Tom & Hanna [22]
Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: Cold Feet, F/M, Feels, Fluff, Honeymoon, Innuendo, Kissing, Love, Nerves, Oral Sex, Pretzels, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, Teasing, Tiny amount of angst, Vaginal Sex, Wedding Fluff, Wedding Planning, family gathering, rehearsal dinner, sex against a wall, wedding ceremony, wedding party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:47:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27779347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewritingkoala/pseuds/thewritingkoala, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tina0609/pseuds/Tina0609
Summary: Tom's and Han's big wedding is just two days away. At the rehearsal dinner there'll be surprises and sexy times.
Relationships: Tom Hiddleston/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Tom & Hanna [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1209162
Comments: 19
Kudos: 30





	1. Chapter One

**T minus two days, November 2017**

Tom’s ears are buzzing. There are at least three different languages spoken around him, loudly and insistently. The clipped English he is used to, the hard German he’s gotten used to in the past few years by Han’s side, and off and on some lilting Spanish because somehow it seems they know quite some people who speak it. Come to think of it, hasn’t he heard some rapid-fire Italian too?

It came as a surprise what a multicultural bunch they are, but really, it shouldn’t have. Because Tom is past the point of surprises. Past the point of anything apart from breathing, smiling, and going with the flow.

They’ve almost made it to The Day and neither of them has died yet. Nor killed anyone else. Neither of these two things is a small feat, as he’s come to realize.

Nodding at God knows what was just said to him, he lets his gaze roam over the length of the table that seems to go on forever. There they are, almost all of the people near and dear to him, and to Han. Dressed to the nines and chatting so much it makes his eyes water and not just his ears ring.

But it’s happy chatter, and despite nerves from hell, Tom feels happy too.

A waiter carries in the umpteenth tray of food that he can barely bring himself to eat. While everyone oohs and aahs, he sneaks a glance at the woman by his side, radiant despite her trembling limbs. And just laying eyes on his fiancee makes the noise bearable.

“Han?” He leans close, brushing his lips over the shell of her ear under the guise of having to speak over the ruckus.

She shivers, but it's not from the nerves, not all of it at least. Tom's breath so close to her does things to Han, especially tonight, especially so close to the biggest day of her life so far.

Han doesn't hear the voices around them, it's really all white noise at this point. Tom next to her is all she wants and needs.

“Han?” he's asking again. Oops, zoned out. She turns her head, looking straight into Tom's smiling, but now seemingly concerned eyes. “Are you still with me?” He's joking, but there is a hint of worry in his soft voice.

“Sorry,” she answers. “Yes, I'm here.”

“Good. How are you doing?”

A deep breath, a slight shake of her head and a slow blink later and she still doesn't feel ready to answer it. “A bit nervous, but mostly excited, and scared as hell that I'll be falling over my dress on Saturday and literally everyone who's here now will see. Fine otherwise.”

Tom's raised brows almost make her blush, though she doesn't have to be shy about anything, not with him, least of all about her feelings.

“That's quite a lot you're feeling there,” he grins, making her laugh a little and roll her eyes. 

“I know, I know, stop teasing me. I'm just not good in front of so many people,” she grimaces.

“They all love you, and they absolutely don't care about anything else.”

Tom's closer again, one hand reaching down to draw circles on her knee, trying to calm her down. A kiss on her cheek makes her blush after all, especially as she can hear the soft ‘awww’ from somewhere down the table.

“Sherlock as well?” Han grins, turning to face her fiancé - soon to be husband - who's looking back at her with a pout.

“Not funny. And it's Ben. Not Sherlock.”

It’s her turn to kiss him on the cheek and she’s pretty sure the ‘awww’ is louder this time.

Before she can say anything else, Tom’s leg starts bouncing giddily. “Oh, look, it’s here.”

“What?” She glances around, seeing a waiter bring in a huge tray as the chatter around the table decreases in volume. She blinks. Are those - no, that can’t be.

Next to her, Tom’s grinning from ear to ear.

“ _Sind das etwa Brezen?_ ”* Han hears her father ask incredulously as the tray is set down and everyone gets a good look. It’s definitely the German version of pretzels, big and brown, with a bit of salt on top, some sliced and apparently lathered thickly with butter.

Tom nods enthusiastically next to her, still grinning. There’s a weird sort of expectancy and joy in his expression. “Yup,” he says almost proudly.

She’s still blinking. “But Tom, German-style pretzels were nowhere on our food list for the wedding.”

He nods even more, resembling a puppet on a string. His grin is infectious though she hasn’t got a clue what’s going on. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees her Papa grab one of the buttered pretzels and take a lusty bite.

“Well?” Tom looks at her with his brows raised. When she’s still just blinking at him, he finally elaborates. “I overheard all of you talking about pretzels all the time so I figured you wanted another typically German food included but felt reluctant to ask cause it’s a weird choice. So I snuck them onto the menu for you and the others.”

“We were talking about pretzels?” Han scrunches up her nose, wondering when on earth she might’ve had the time to even think of the German specialty during the stress of the past few weeks.

“Yes. There was all this talk about ‘up-brai-tseln’ when you guys got together.”

And then it hits her… Tom must’ve heard her family and friends from Germany use the expression “aufbrezeln”, which loosely translates to “get all dolled up/dressed up” and referred to her fashion for the event rather than to actual “Brezeln”.

Tom blinks at the loud laugh Han’s hiding behind her hands. It's lovely to hear, but somehow he can't shake the feeling it's more than joy that makes her eyes water and her giggles unstoppable.

When she hiccups and draws some snickers from the crowd, Tom's giddy grin falters for a moment. Well, clearly she's not upset about his surprise, but she's not teared up (in the emotional way, that is) like he's suspected, either.

“Oh, Tom. You're lovely, you really are,” she gasps, giggles still leaving her, and kisses him, on the mouth this time.

“Uhm…” He falters for a moment. Still doesn't sound that genuine if he's being honest. Plus, Han's lips on his always do something to him. But not now, not with all their families and friends spending the next three days - Friday to Sunday - with them in the hotel in the Cotswolds. Maybe they can flee for a moment tomorrow? Go on a hike? If they're not too busy dying, that is. And if he's found out what has Han laughing like mad. It can't just be the pretzels, right? “Uhm, thank you?”

“You really did this for me, didn't you?”

“Well, yeah, I wanted you to be happy.”

“Tom, it wasn't about the pretzels.”

“What?” She must be joking. He clearly heard her and her friends talking about getting pretzels for the wedding. Or well, Brezen as they're called in Germany. That's what he got from their conversations. Sure, it's a little strange to be so hung up on them, especially when her mum and aunt Doris are also getting their desired Rotkohl. But they'd talked about this special food for days. And now it's not about that?

“It's a German saying. We talked about ‘aufbrezeln’, Tom.”

He nods. He got that, obviously, hence the food. “Yeah. Brezel. Your dad likes them.”

They both turn to look at his future father-in-law clearly enjoying the salty pieces, everyone in Han's family seems so fond of.

Han nods, he sees from the corner of his eye. “Yeah, you clearly have a friend for life now.” Then she turns her head and looks at Tom. “‘Aufbrezeln’ means getting dolled up. It has nothing to do with the food, Tom. We were talking about getting dressed up for this, and how much fun it will be, no matter how scared I am of falling down face first.”

“Oh.” Tom feels himself blushing. He got that wrong, apparently. “Well. Do you like pretzels at least?”

“I do.”

They smile, grabbing each other's hands on the table. “You do? I love hearing you say that.”

The smirk is back on her face, and even though this is highly embarrassing and she'll probably never let him forget this, at least Tom managed to relax her for tonight. He can think of a few other ways to achieve that though, but maybe later.

“I'll say it again soon.”

* * *

The food is delicious, yes, the pretzels are a great success on Tom's part, and Han's already so full, she doesn't know how she managed pudding as well. Or in two days, when she's in her dress, hoping everything goes down smoothly and scared of her father's speech.

The chatter is up in volume now, the guests full and happy, talking amongst themselves. This is the part with the speeches normally, but she and Tom decided to leave it until the actual wedding day. Which is in two days, which kind of makes Han want to puke from nerves. But it'll be fine.

“Did you like my pretzel?” Tom whispers in her ear, making her jump, then laugh at the mischievous sparkle in his eyes and the wink that follows.

“I always like your pretzel very much.” Han can't hide the smirk, especially not when she sees Tom's cheeks sporting the slightest of blushes.

He shakes his head at her, squeezing her fingers in his, his hand coming to rest on her thigh. “That's not appropriate talk in a room full of 150 people,” he mumbles, but doesn't really look like he'd mind.

“Oh?” she smirks, rubbing her thumb over his hand in return. “I thought it was highly appropriate. And appreciated, since on Saturday the wedding photographer will capture every moment, naughty or not. Don't want to have that in our pics, hm?”

Tom clears his throat. Han grins.

“Well, not in the official ones.”

And the grin is gone. Damn him.

Tom leans even closer and his hand inches further inward, making her reflexively bring her legs together beneath the table and trap it between her thighs.

“So...seeing as this is a rehearsal dinner,” he whispers, “don’t you think there’s something else we should...rehearse?”

Huh, definitely not grinning now, nope. Han resists the urge to fan herself and tries to glare at him instead. She knows exactly what he’s up to.

“It’s not like we haven’t ‘rehearsed’ that a million times already,” she half-hisses before faking a smile at one of the guests who looks their way.

Tom’s lips brush her earlobe, his fingers squeezing her thigh rhythmically. “Yes but wifey, the next time we’re going to ‘do the deed for real’, it won’t be normal sexytimes, it’ll be to consummate our marriage. For the first time. I definitely think that warrants a rehearsal.”

His thumb somehow manages to brush high against where he’s making her damp, and the only thought in Han’s mind now is “screw appropriate behaviour”.

“Yes. Rehearse. Yes,” is all she can stutter, hoping her tomato-red face will be attributed to the copious amounts of wine she’s been drinking all evening.

He leans back and grins. Then Tom wiggles his fingers, trying to loosen them from Han's tight hold between her legs, while simultaneously adjusting himself - hopefully secretly - with his other hand under the table.

It's not that he doesn't want to stay in that place up Han's thigh, honestly he can't think of anything better at the moment, but if they don't take this somewhere else it'll end up more embarrassing than any speech can possibly be.

Tom risks a glance around the room, luckily everyone is occupied, mingling about, not sitting on their assigned chairs anymore but walking around. They can go for a little walk, can't they? The place must be checked after all. Can't have anything lying around where it shouldn't be.

The way Han is biting her lip, looking at him now, makes Tom press his hand harder against himself, trying to keep things down. And definitely trying to not pick her up and have her right here on the table. Now, that would be a show.

He leans closer again, though her smell is doing things to him. Hell, everything she does is doing all the things to him.

“Han,” he mumbles in her ear as he turns his head a bit to be hidden from view. His nose brushes her hair, the loose strands tickling him. Tom can't wait to see her fancy updo fall apart a little more. Preferably while Han falls apart around him. He kisses behind her ear. The shiver that runs through her also goes straight to his groin.

“What?” she breathes.

“I think you need to re-do your make-up. Right. Now.”

“Yeah. I think I do, too.”

Another kiss on her ear that she can feel everywhere, and then Tom moves away slightly and pretends to busy himself with a last bite of dessert.

Oh how she loves it that he’s a pudding guy and ‘pudding’ guy. Stifling a giggle as well as another shuffle, Han gathers courage.

Loud enough for others to overhear it, she says, “Gosh, I think not even the most expensive make-up was able to handle all that food. I’m going to slip out for a minute and re-do it.”

“Need help?” Sarah offers, while some other guests aren’t even paying attention.

“No!” Whoopsie, was that a bit panicky. Han smiles brightly, shaking her head. “If I’m supposed to handle being a bride, I may as well handle touching up my own make-up.”

Tom’s sister gives her a thumbs up, looking somewhat tipsy and totally clueless.

Han forces herself to act normally as she leaves the table and then the room, making a beeline for the toilets. What excuse will Tom use to leave, too?

She barely has a chance to wonder, before strong arms wrap around her to press her against a tall, lean, deliciously muscled body and intercept her path to the restroom.

“Not in there, darling. Don’t want to risk being interrupted.” Tom’s whisper is more of a growled promised as he all but carries her one-armed into God knows what empty room close by.

And then she can’t think - can barely breathe - when her almost-husband is all over her with his greedy mouth and hands.

She does have enough breath left to moan his name, though, when Tom lets go of her lips for a moment and sucks on her neck instead as he walks her backwards until she's pressed against a wall.

“I really, really need you,” he mumbles into the darkness of whatever room they're in.

“You have me,” Han breathes back, her hands coming to rest on his broad shoulders, dressed in a wonderfully looking suit jacket, that unfortunately has to go now in order for her to touch more of him.

Their moans mingle, as Han shoves a bit to get rid of the jacket, but pushes her hips forward to make up for the short loss of contact between them. Tom’s hands leave her to take off the piece of clothing (that hopefully doesn't wrinkle too much), but touch her a short moment later, if only to gather her dress in his hands and then meet the naked skin of her belly.

She can't. His hands are so close to where she wants them, and she needs to do something in return, so she pulls Tom towards her, tucks at the strands of his hair, and crashes her mouth against his. It's not her finest work, but Han doesn't care at this point, and Tom doesn't seem to either, with the way his hips push against her, moving in the rhythm of her tongue in his mouth.

His desire for her is as evident against her belly as hers is evident by how wet she is for him. Just for him.

“Tom,” she moans, and he answers with a groan against her mouth, panting, when Han tucks at his hair a bit firmer. She can’t do this to him. Tom feels himself getting too close to his release, and he hasn’t even really touched her, yet. Not the way he wants to.

He bites her lower lip, her answering whimper almost sending Tom over the edge. Whelp, that didn’t go according to plan.

“Han,” he mumbles, then almost throws himself away from her, when she doesn’t answer. “Hanna,” he tries again, putting a bit more space between them, although that is the last thing Tom wants.

She’s breathing hard, lips parted, leaning with her back against the wall, her long dress rumpled, updo slightly messed up, and she’s looking up at Tom with hooded eyes. “Yes?” she whispers, and then smirks, because apparently he’s not looking much better at this point. Hell, he feels hot and bothered all over, his erection straining against his zipper, needing the release just as much as he does.

“I’m too close,” he mumbles as he approaches again, in his head he’s listing all the things he doesn’t like to eat. Rhubarb... 

Tom doesn’t get much further, because the next thing he knows is that he feels Han’s hands all over him again, tucking at his belt, fumbling to get it open. “Han.” It sounds so whiny, he’d be embarrassed if he wasn’t so busy being turned on.

“Undress me then and make this quick.”

He does. Han gasps when suddenly Tom's hands are all over her, under her dress, pushing down her panties. She feels him against her, and then the last barrier is gone, when Tom takes off his trousers and boxers in one go - Han suspects, because it's a mess in her mind, and she doesn't know what's up and down - and then finds a home inside of her.

“Fuck,” he curses. “Fuck, I don't have…”

“It's okay, it's safe. We're safe. Fuck me.”

They kiss, tuck and pull, then move against and with each other. Han closes her eyes when Tom sucks on her neck again and holds her against him. She wraps her legs around Tom's hips as best as she can, her hands massage his butt. 

“Look at me,” her almost husband rasps against Han's ear, where she can feel the sweat forming from their exercise. She does. She opens her eyes. Tom's staring back at her, his pupils blown, his brows set in a concentrated frown. “Can you come like this?”

Han knows what he means. He's holding her up, and he's close to his release. She can feel him rocking against her, his hips losing their rhythm, his penis swelling inside of her. No, she doesn't need his fingers to get her over the edge. Not tonight. Tom's so close, touching all the right places inside of her.

“Yes,” is all she manages to say, before Tom growls and then stutters. Her eyes close again, and then it's white light and white noise.

* * *

They're panting, when they're coming down from their highs a few seconds, minutes or hours later. Well, Han grins, then blushes, hopefully not hours, their guests definitely would come searching for them.

“Hey,” Tom whispers, making her look at him. He's rumpled, sweaty and has never looked better. “I love you.”

Han smiles. “I love you too.”

“How was that for a rehearsal?”

She laughs and groans, he's still inside of her, doing some delicious things. “Okay, I guess. Maybe we need all the practice we can, though.”


	2. Chapter Two

Oh God, oh God, oh God. She has to puke. She really has to puke, and Han hasn't even eaten anything yet. Which is understandable since it's 4 in the morning and she's in the bathroom, sitting on the edge of the tub - quite a big tub, they did get the honeymoon suite after all. Because they're going to get married in a few hours. Well, more than a few. It is only 4 in the morning after all.

Han breaks out in cold sweat again, her elbows on her knees, her head in her hands. She curls in on herself, breathing deep, or trying to.

That's cold feet for you. Not because she's marrying Tom. Never because of marrying him. She'd do it in a heartbeat, right here in the bathroom on a very early cold morning, when it isn't even bright outside.

She can even deal with the paps. Okay. No. She can't. Another deep breath. They haven't been found out as far as Han can tell. But she's so afraid they will and then ruin her big day. Their big day.

Han's not going to blame Tom, it's not his fault, just as Italy hasn't been his fault either. She's not blaming the famous friends attending the wedding, either. She just blames herself.

A knock on the door startles her. Shit.

Han rubs her hands over her thighs and breathes deeply in and out again. At least, she tries.

“Han?” comes Tom's croaked voice through the door. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine!” she shouts through the door and cringes. That doesn't sound fine at all.

She can almost feel and see Tom sighing on the other side of the bathroom door. “I'm coming in, yeah?” And then he doesn't even give her time to protest, because before Han knows what happened, the door’s open and Tom's kneeling in front of her. “Okay, tell me what's wrong?” She shrugs, hell, she doesn't even know herself. “Are you sick? Do you have cold feet? Don't you want to get married anymore?”

The concern in Tom's voice almost breaks her, and it's getting harder and harder to breathe. Han shakes her head. “No, that's not it. I do want to marry you. Right here preferably.”

The sigh is audible. “Let's do it here then,” Tom suggests, sitting cross-legged in front of the tub now, hands rubbing over Han's shins and calves.

Han looks at him through glassy eyes. He looks tired and concerned, maybe even a bit pale. She must have woken him up accidentally when she shot from the bed. She huffs. “No, absolutely not, I look a mess.”

“Don't care.”

“I care.”

“Why?”

Yeah , why… Why was she subjecting herself to this torture right from hell again? Right. “Because I love you, dammit.”

“I love you dammit too,” Tom says solemnly, his lips aaalmost not twitching. “Which is why I think it’s an amazing idea to get married right here, right now.”

He thinks what now? Han is gaping, doing her best codfish impression ever, she’s sure. Is she still asleep and having a pre-wedding nightmare? Must be that, yes.

Tom is nodding now, still so very solemnly. “Yes yes, your best idea ever. Gimme a second.”

He leans over, grabs the hotel’s complimentary hairdryer and positions it closer to them, precariously balanced on the tub’s edge. Is he planning to electrocute them so they don’t have to go through with the wedding?

Tom clears his throat, like someone before an important speech. “Right, this is our wedding official, right here.” He dips his chin at the hairdryer and Han is surer than ever that this must be a dream.

Changing his voice to some nasal drone, he recites typical wedding vows and she needs to dig her nails into her thigh in order to pinch herself. Yeah, she’s awake. And most definitely hallucinating. Great, the stress has gotten the better of her mind after all..

“Do you, Hannie bunnie,” she hears Tom, “take this besotted fool as your husband, to love…”

He could go on for a bit more, but Han doesn't look that impressed. It's almost an eye roll, but Tom suspects she's not quite there yet. As long as that changes in the afternoon, when they'll finally get married, he doesn't care.

“Tom, no,” she interrupts, and Tom's heart beats a bit faster again, just like a few minutes ago, when he found her sitting on the edge of the bathtub. But the ‘no’ isn't about marriage, right? 

“... To have and to hold,” he mumbles, now drawing circles on her knees with his fingers.

Her finger on his lips stops him and then he grins when she pouts. “I want to do the real thing, Tom.”

“Do you?” She nods, looking more and more confident by the second. “Then why are we sitting in the bathroom, when we could easily be asleep for four more hours?”

They meet when Han moves from her place to join him on the floor, sitting across from him. “Everyone's going to watch me.” Her voice is small, and Tom's rarely seen her this unsure of herself. Maybe when they had their first official outing.

“Well, you're going to be beautiful. Even more beautiful than right now. Of course they're going to watch. I'll be watching only you all day myself.”

Her blush makes him smile. It's not like he isn't nervous as well. Massively so. Just because he's an actor doesn't mean he likes 150 people to witness the most intimate moments with his wife. Well, not the most intimate of course. That'd take it several steps too far.

“I'll be watching you then, too,” she finally answers.

Tom nods, leans in and kisses her cheek. “Good. I'll look forward to that then.” He stands, pulling Han up from the floor with him. “Can we go back to bed now? I could even make sure you're tired enough to sleep.”

A huff. That's what he gets for that. She's a bit more herself, finally. Tom's not even offended. “I'd like to not be sore the entire day, thank you very much.”

Tom can't fight the proud smirk. Maybe he's too tired and too relieved. “Ha, no. Thank you for saying that.”

* * *

It’s several hours later and Han has to resist the urge to lock herself into the bathroom - any bathroom would do - again. Would be quite a bit more difficult now though, with a few people fumbling to help her into the gorgeous gown she’s NOT going to puke over.

She takes deep breaths instead, remembering Tom ‘rescuing’ her this morning. They didn’t fall asleep again but they napped in each other’s arms and that was just fine.

And now showtime is fast approaching and her heart is beating so fast it’s bound to break out of her ribs. She imagines walking down the aisle with a big bloody hole gaping in her chest and shudder-snorts. “Oh Han, Galgenhumor ist vielleicht nicht die beste Idee,” she silently scolds herself.

Her thoughts flitter to Tom as she ignores the poke of a pin being shoved into her hip to secure something or other. Is he taking refuge in gallow’s humour too?

* * *

“Tom.”

He paces, sweating and cold at the same time. Paces some more, rubbing his hands together. She’ll come, right? Down the aisle she’ll walk, towards him and Ben - his best man - together with her Papa, looking beautiful. Right? She was fine this morning during breakfast, didn’t eat much, but did much better than in the bathroom. Everything is better than in the bathroom to be honest. God, he hates being so helpless.

“Tom.”

Maybe they can elope? What were they even thinking, having a wedding with 150 guests? Hell, even he is afraid to stand in front of all of them. And he’s not the one actually walking down the aisle with everyone staring. With a white dress he could stumble over. Yeah, maybe he should not think about that.

“Tom, for fuck’s sake, sit down and have a drink. Please.”

Tom startles. He stops pacing and turns, looking into Ben’s face. He does look kind of exasperated. Oops?

“What?” Tom asks.

“Sit down, you’re making me nervous. And have a drink, please.”

* * *

“I can’t sit.”

“You don’t have to,” Evie answers. They’re alone in the bridal suite, Han and her matron of honour. Han checks the clock. 15 minutes to go. She’s dressed, has her face painted on and more pins in her hair than she can count. Those will be hell to remove.

“Yes,” she swallows. “Yes, I actually do have to sit. Can I have a drink?” Evie doesn’t look too impressed. “Okay, just sitting then.”

Okay, maybe she’s a bit overdramatic. She can actually sit. This is probably the most comfortable wedding dress she could have worn. It’s perfect, and she knows Tom will love it just as much as she does. So, Han plops down on the nearest chair and huffs. She could do with a little food now. Which she shouldn’t, because she’ll puke. But she is looking forward to that cake later.

There’s a knock on the door, it must be her Papa. The rest of the girls - her mum and friends and family from Germany included - have already made their way downstairs, where by now everyone is waiting for her. Evie opens the door and indeed it is her Papa now walking into the room.

“I’ll leave you two alone, and wait for you by the doors,” Evie rushes out with a smile, before taking her flowers and walking out of the suite.

Han stands up, meeting Daniel’s gaze. He gets a bit teary-eyed, walking closer to his daughter. “Du bist wunderschön.” She does feel beautiful, if she’s being honest. It’s not often the case, though she’s mostly comfortable in her own skin. But today really seems to be her big day. Obviously.

“Danke, Papa.”

They hug, and by God, he needs to stop with the tears, because she can’t cry before the actual wedding. What will she do when it’s time for the vows?

“Let me take you downstairs,” her Papa says in German. She nods, and off they are, ready to get married.

* * *

A minute has never felt so long. Never. Not during his first audition, not during his first stage performance, not during his first press conference. Never ever.

Tom resists the urge to fumble with his suit, ask for another drink or hold onto Ben for dear life. Because this is his life on the line here, isn’t it? His life with the woman he’s going to love for eternity. Even if eternity feels like a minute at the moment. No wait, the other way around.

He’s about to check the time not so subtle when a hush falls over the guests. He can feel himself blanch and then blush, and then the bridal march’s first notes float into the air and he can’t breathe.

There she is, the woman who’s stolen his heart, stealing it all over again. She looks...for once, words fail him, and that’s probably saying more than anything. Radiant. Magnificent. Magical. Otherworldly. Regal. HIS.

The dress is just perfect but he can’t even linger on it much because he needs to stare at Han’s face and the light in her eyes. His nose feels itchy and his eyes burn. Damn lighting… But he can feel himself smiling so hard he’ll probably split his face in half. Doesn’t matter. He has a woman to marry, and not even doing it with half a face can stop him.

Before he knows it Han and her Papa are standing in front of him, both with a smile on their faces, Daniel's eyes a bit red-rimmed. Tom doesn't focus on that though, instead he only sees Han's smile. It's radiating, and it says so much.

Their hands tremble slightly when Daniel offers Han's for Tom to take. Tom squeezes it and feels his wife-to-be - really, not much longer now - returning the gesture. 

“You look beautiful,” he whispers in her ear and baths in the twinkle in her eyes and the blush on her cheeks.

“You don't look too bad yourself,” she mumbles back.

And then they turn and everything is a bit of a blur. He should pay more attention probably, but all Tom registers are his heartbeat, Han's hand in his, her smell and the little noises she makes - maybe to stop herself from crying? He's afraid to check, trying desperately to not become a bawling mess himself.

Suddenly it's already time for the vows. Shit. Does he still know what to say? Does he remember? He doesn't. He doesn't know how to even form words, how in hell is he supposed to say anything remotely intelligent now? He should have taken the piece of paper with the words on it.

But then they turn towards each other, standing face to face and Han smiles at him, and Tom knows what to say.

“Hannie bunnie…” Laughter in the room and her usual eye roll. “We met four years ago, and no matter how cliché it sounds, they've been the best years of my life. You didn't care who I was at all. Honestly, it was almost offensive.” More laughter, from Han this time as well. “And when you did know you stayed. Took it all in, and decided that I was worth the circumstances. You still make me feel like I'm worth it, that I can do what I love and know you'll be by my side, no matter what. I want you by my side for the rest of my life, to have and to hold, in good times and bad. There will be bad times, you know we're both too stubborn, but even then I want to come home to you. You're my best friend, and now you're about to be my wife, and I love you.”

A shudder runs through Han. How dare he? How dare he use these words and make her cry in front of everyone? She sniffs and laughs at the same time, wiping the tears under her eyes carefully.

“I love you too,” she whispers and then takes a deep breath. It's her turn now. “When I met you, my life was about to change. Leaving my family and my home for London, making one nice trip before the move, and then there you stood, petting a koala, way too handsome in the Australian heat. I did care who you were, by the way, but come on, you gotta play it cool. You changed my life in the most perfect sense. You made me a better person, a happier one, someone who lets go from time to time. I don't care about movies or money, I just want to be with you. You're my best friend too. And I'm looking forward to sharing my future with you and annoying you until we're old and then some more. And I do love you too.”

She hears the sniffles, and she sees the tears in Tom's eyes, and then Han feels strangely proud of herself. She created this moment with him, a moment they'd possibly never forget.

And then she and Tom face forwards, looking into the smiling face of their registrar. He turns to Tom first. “Are you, Thomas William Hiddleston, free lawfully to marry Hanna Engels?”

Han’s heart beats fast. This would be the moment, right? The moment he could still say no to her. It’s crazy, she knows that. He wouldn’t go through the vows and all of this to just say no now. Tom holds her hand tight, they look at each other for a moment.

“I am.”

Han holds her breath. He did it. They’re almost there. They’re doing this. She locks eyes with the registrar.

“Are you, Hanna Engels, free lawfully to marry Thomas William Hiddleston?”

“I am.”

They’re both beaming, Han can see it from the corner of her eyes. And then suddenly it’s all a blur, Ben comes forward with the rings, and suddenly she’s bound to Tom and everyone can see. She’s never been so proud, and she’s never seen that look on Tom’s face.

The registrar clears his throat, making Han blush, before she turns to face him. “I now pronounce you man and wife,” he declares with a chuckle and a smile. “You may kiss the bride.”

She can’t hold back the giggle. Han doesn’t know if it’s appropriate, but she can’t help it. She’s happy, she’s a proper wife now. And Tom’s her husband. And then said husband pulls on her hand, so she turns and grins at her. She doesn’t notice much else just their hands held tight and Tom coming closer. He whispers, “Finally,” and chuckles when the wedding guests cheer.

The kiss is everything. It’s by far not the most scandalous one and for sure not the most intimate. But it’s their first as husband and wife, and it feels different. It has a meaning, it has a purpose.

Tom smiles against her, before he lets go the tiniest bit. “Hey, wifey.”


	3. Chapter Three

The music is loud, but the guests are louder. Han takes another sip of her water and can't hold back the giggle that escapes her when she sees Emma being pulled and pushed and then swung around by her brother on the dance floor.

They had the dinner, they had the cake, they had the first dance - she didn't fall - and now they've been having fun for hours. And probably will enjoy the night for a couple of hours more.

Han got over the fact everybody's watching her. She even likes it. Because among all the people watching is Tom, and she can't get over the fact that she's actually married to him now. She looks down at her left hand, now two rings are sitting on her finger. They fit perfectly and again she's stunned by their beauty. Something else - or rather someone - that's beautiful is Tom. Even now, after hours of dancing and sweating, he's sexy. Her sexy husband.

It's not even the alcohol talking. Han does want to remember this day, she's not getting drunk tonight. The same goes for Tom, even though by the way he's dancing now, you couldn't really tell. Although all that spinning would end in disaster if he was more than tipsy. Emma on the other hand… 

Han laughs, when Tom hugs his sister close, holding her to him, and then she smiles as they whisper something amongst themselves. The conversation ends with a kiss on Emma's cheek, and Han's heart bursts from watching the sweet moment. 

“ What do you say, shall we give those two a run for their money?” a deep, poshly accented voice speaks close to her.

Han jerks out of her reverie to look into Ben’s face. He’s long shucked his suit jacket too, like Tom, and he’s been doing his fair share of dancing.

Giggling again because the fangirl in her just won’t die, she nods. A dance with Sherlock, wow. On her own wedding day, no less.

Although Benedict often seems like a mess of gangly limbs and cute awkwardness, he’s surprisingly good on the dance floor. Han is just glad he doesn’t twirl her like Tom is now twirling his other sister Sarah.

“So how does it feel?” Ben asks.

“Hm? What?”

“To officially be Mrs. Hiddleston now?”

She feels herself blushing and looks down to hide her face, grinning embarrassedly. "Don't make me get all emotional and mushy."

Ben's shaking doesn't come from dancing this time. "Thought so," he chuckles.

"It's amazing, honestly." They share a smile and Han almost forgets that she's dancing with Sherlock. "Hanna Hiddleston does have a few too many 'h's in there to be perfectly honest."

"Ah well," Ben shrugs. "If Tom's ever not nice to you, we'll find you someone with a better surname." 

Her heart beats fast and she grins at him, still being - moderately - twirled around the dance floor. It's a joke, but Han wonders just how much truth is behind it. She knows Tom's friends have come to like her, the other way round too, and she also knows that coming with the territory they're fiercely protective of each other - of her as well?

"I'd appreciate it."

“And I’d appreciate it if you took your hands off my wife,” she hears a growl nearby that sounds suspiciously like Loki.

Both of them jerk and stare - but despite the menacing snarl, Tom is grinning from ear to ear. He claps Ben on the shoulder, tries to wink at them (and fails adorably, as usual) and then leans in for a quick kiss.

“Ready to dance with your husband again, Mrs. Hiddleston?” he asks and Han just about manages not to swoon out of her heels. It does have a nice ring to it when he purrs it like that.

Ben starts dancing with Sarah and Tom’s arms come around her, dragging her close. This is so different from their first dance. They’re both unraveling somewhat, losing their polished looks along with their tension.

Tom rests his chin on top of her not-so-elaborate-anymore hairstyle. “Han?”

“Mhm?”

“Was this day everything you’d dreamed of?”

Han turns her head to look at him, their eyes meeting, Tom's shining with so much love and adoration for her.

Is this everything she dreamed of? Can you really say? As a little girl she wanted to be a princess on her wedding day, though to be fair her references were Disney movies and Sissi. And then she didn't really think about it until Tom asked her to marry him. But despite the stressful planning and bringing their families together…

"Yes," she smiles. And she's not afraid of being all cheesy now. "I got to marry you." She taps Tom's nose with her finger, before standing on her tiptoes to give him a quick kiss.

Tom smiles against her, mumbles against her, "That's quite an adorable thing to say."

"I know. I'm adorable."

He moves his head a little to look at her again. "But it's really your dream come true?"

"It really is. No question about it. It's perfect." The proud grin on his face is everything she needs. "Thank you."

* * *

"It’s perfect,” Han murmurs as two kangaroos hop picturesquely across the lawn while the morning sunlight streams onto the hotel property. It looks like something out of a movie Tom could be in, Down Under where the seasons are topsy turvy.

But Tom’s not here as an actor. He’s here with her as her husband, on their honeymoon that’s also a dream come true. They decided to go back to where they first met, relive some of their earliest memories together.

And although this time, she flew first class, carries a pretty ring on her finger, and is staying at a lavish suite they haven’t left for two days, it does feel like a trip down memory lane.

“What’s perfect, Mrs. Hiddleston?”

Tom walks across the room to join her on the private balcony, wrapped only in a towel with some water drops glistening on his body.

Han drinks him in, inexplicably still ravenous for him and hoping that won’t change now that they’re actually married and will spend the rest of their lives together.

“Oh,  _ this  _ is pretty perfect too,” she says with a fluttering of her lashes, running her hands down Tom’s pecs and defined abs.

They’ve been relaxing ever since their arrival two days ago, soaking up the sunshine and wallowing in room service. Well, and being insatiable for each other whenever they weren’t appreciating that they had absolutely no other things to attend to.

Tom tries to suppress the shudder running through his body, but he can tell it’s for naught by the smirk on Han's face. This will never get old. ‘This’ being not only Han relaxing in the sunlight wearing nothing but a bikini - she only put on, because she’s outside - and undressing him with just her eyes. ‘This’ also meaning he gets to call her Mrs. Hiddleston. She carries his name, he can’t quite believe it. And ‘this’ also means she wants him. Obviously, he wants her too. All the time. And they’ve had each other a good amount of times over the last two days.

He’s getting hard just thinking about it. And Han’s hands don’t help. Not that they should. Was there anything he wanted to do before coming out here? Couldn’t have been putting on some clothes.

“Well,” he drawls. "I'm more than enjoying the view as well." His own fingers begin to wander, more tickling than touching. From Han's thighs up to her bikini bottoms, playing with the straps that hold them together - it comes off easily, he tested that.

When he feels the tightening in his belly - and his groin - as Han's fingers trace patterns along his towel, Tom pulls his wife to him, hands landing on her arse, keeping her close, her body pressed against his.

"So," he murmurs, his eyes on hers, "what do you want to do today?" 

“ Shouldn’t that be ‘who’ do I want to do today?” she asks coyly, wondering whether one tug at the towel would be enough to make it drop.

Tom’s fingers dig into her butt harder as he smirks at her. “Well, there’s only one ‘who’ that you’ll be doing for the rest of your life, wifey.”

She giggles, which does interesting things to the way their bodies rub against each other. Tom smells heavenly, like himself and a shower, and he feels as ready as she is.

“God, I want to climb you and cling to you like a koala to a eucalyptus tree,” she hears herself say and freezes.

Wait, she did  _ not  _ just say that, did she? They’re blinking at each other for a moment, Tom looking as shocked as she is feeling because that remark was decidedly un-Han-like. At the same time, they burst out laughing, unable to stop. Tom lets her go, doubling over and all but howling while she’s guffawing so hard she has tears in her eyes.

After half an eternity, their laughter subsides to snickers. All of a sudden, Tom grabs her around the waist and hoists her up as she automatically wraps her legs around him - and causes the towel to drop.

“Alright then, let’s get clinging,” he says with another smirk.

Han grins back, delighted by the gasp she pulls from Tom when she presses herself closer to him, her already wet core aligned perfectly with Tom. Her fingers play with his hair, her breasts are pressed against his chest.

"Hm," she purrs, voice deep and sultry, "are you sure you can handle me clinging to you?"

Tom rocks his hips, sending the first of possibly many waves of lust through Han's body. "What do you think?" 

Mouth open, breathing hard, Han leans in closer, impossibly close, lips almost touching. "I think you need to show me," she whispers against him, then bites his lower lip and smirks.

Tom growls, actually growls, and he's not ashamed of it. He's got his sexy wife in his arms, who's doing some delicious things to his body. He's trembling, his blood is quickly leaving his brain, and his body can't decide if it wants to give into temptation to have her right here in his arms and actually show her that he is indeed capable to have her while she's clinging to him. Or maybe he should take her to bed - again - to have her in so many more ways than just that.

Eat her out, make her come at least twice before burying himself inside of her and so much more.

Tom stumbles, catching himself after mere seconds, and Han chuckles. "You're already failing, huh?" she murmurs against his lips, and with another growl he pushes against her, kissing her hard. Making him hard. Harder.

Oh God, oh fuck, oh shit. Han can't take it anymore. She doesn't care if Tom can hold her during their entire lovemaking, she needs to be on top of him, underneath him and have him inside of her.

"Fuck, Tom, just… Ugh." Instead of talking she's kissing him again, can't get enough of him, ever.

Her hands tuck on Tom's hair, before letting go to roam his body as good as she can in this position. Her fingers trace his pecs and abs, trying to get to his groin even now. Damn it all, she doesn't care if he can carry her.

"Tom. Tom, I need… Ugh. I need to touch you."

"You sure? I can do this all day," he mumbles against her, the smirk evident on his lips.

"That's not your line. Take me to bed."

He does. He does take her to bed. The towel lies forgotten on the balcony floor, and somehow on the way inside Han's bikini top comes off.

Tom holds her to him with one hand under her butt while pushing her face closer to him with a little pressure on her neck. He needs to kiss her. The way to the bed is saved on his brain, he manages with his eyes closed. Or with his blood in his penis.

He wants to devour her, trail all the marks he's left on her skin for the past two days.

So, Tom puts her down on the bed, holding himself up with his hands, hovering above her. He grins down at Han. "I'll show you I'm able to hold you up tomorrow. Or tonight."

The eye roll he loves is on full display. "Shut up."

She makes him, pulling him close and kissing him again. Their bodies rub together in the most enjoyable way, Tom's naked form a glorious sight.

And then he moves down her body, way, way too slowly, nipping at her skin - her chest, her belly, her hip bone. His teeth drag over her skin, leaving Han a shaky, moaning, sweating and swearing mess. And then he takes off her bikini bottoms, hooking his thumbs under the straps and dragging it away.

Han almost shoots from the bed when Tom's tongue meets the bundle of nerves, her husband - God, he's her husband - not at all bothered by the strong hold she has on his hair, pulling and pushing to direct him to where she wants him the most.

With all the times they've spent in this bed Han wonders how she can even feel anything at all, but the orgasm is breathtaking - literally - and has her gasping for air.

Next thing she feels are Tom's lips against her own, his tongue begging for entrance, and she can taste herself on him.

With eyes closed and still kissing, her hand moves down Tom's body and rests between them, stroking his member firmly but slowly.

Tom groans against her, pushing into her hand and then suddenly the kisses are getting more heated, he's touching her everywhere, leaving kisses not only on her lips but on her cheeks, her jaw, her throat.

"I need you," he whispers. "Again. And again. And again."

"Hm-hm. Need you too."

Their breaths mix when he enters her, pushing inside her as far as he can, moving together, writhing meeting thrust for thrust.

And then they come together, Tom's shaky panting on Han's cheek as he stills.

He doesn't know exactly where he is when he moves out of her, but Tom does know that he'll need this for the rest of his life. He drags her close by her shoulder, and Han rests her head on his chest.

"I've only just had a shower," he mumbles.

Han chuckles. "Hm. Maybe we both need another one."

"'m going to carry you there. In a minute."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading :)

**Author's Note:**

> *Are those pretzels?


End file.
